Still Alive
Author: gaarafreak/nogoodlum/tifpod
Summary: Post-ME3. Spoilers for the endings. Continuing where "best" red ending left off and trying to make sense of it. Featuring Jane Shepard, Paragon Vanguard femshep. Also there will be Shakarian. There will also be Indoctrination insanity. Oh yeah and Garrus and Liara are the crewmates Jane Shepard brought with her on the run to the beam.
Disclaimer: Bioware owns Mass Effect 1 & 2 & 3 and all the characters there of.
A/N: Huff. Maybe this will make more sense to other people. It will be a multi-parter, I'm sure. Also, if you are like me, unhappy with the ending(s) ME3 for any number of reasons (lack of sense, mostly), please join the facebook group "Demand a Better Ending to Mass Effect 3". I'll be there. You can talk to me and share the misery/love. I think there's also a group on tumblr and twitter. Dunno.
1. Regroup
The air she dragged into her lungs tasted of smoke and dust. But it brought life back into her body. Her heart stuttered and her brain was fuzzy from lack of oxygen, but she was alive. The cybernetics hummed within her skull, trying to compensate for the weakness of her organic parts.
Her chest rose and fell.
And, suddenly, there was nothing but pain, exploding behind her eyelids, crushing down on her chest. Why wasn't she dead? At least then she'd be free of this horrible agony with its mind-killing claws raking down the whole of her consciousness.
She tried to blink. God, her right eye wouldn't open. The lashes crusted over with dried blood, tissue swollen until the lids touched.
She was lying on her back. Heavy rocks on top of her. Sharp debris behind her, digging into her spine. Her fingers twitched. Her pistol was missing. She felt exposed without it.
A moan...familiar and drawn out, lingered in the air. The moan grew louder and with it, the sound of shuffling feet scattering the rubble of whatever building lie in pieces around her.
Building?
It was hard to tell with only one eye, but the cement and mortar definitely didn't look like the last thing she remembered before shooting the catalyst to pieces and losing consciousness in the explosion.
A ragged snarl ripped through her thoughts. From her left, blue-gray blurred in the corner of her good eye and bore down on her. The creature, all teeth and clawed fingers and glowing blue synthetics set in dead white flesh pushing her spine against the rubble.
She wasn't sure how she did it, honestly, with every sinew in her body protesting the movement, but she shoved her left forearm into the husk's neck just as it lunged for her face, its broken teeth snapping inches from her nose. Spittle splashed onto her cheeks as the husk wailed and reared back for another lunge, arms flailing.
She groped for something—anything-to use as a weapon. A pistol, preferably-
But when the husk threw itself back toward her, she swung whatever was in her hand at the creature's face.
A large chunk of cement cracked into the husk's skull, knocking its jaw askew. The creature, a forced fusion of organic and synthetic—a human turned into a monster—toppled sideways to the ground.
Shepard inhaled, coughing, able to breathe again, and rolled to her side. Slowly, she pushed herself up to sit. She had to take stock of her surroundings, she had too regain control of the situation...
In the distance, a high-pitched shriek echoed off the buildings. A banshee. Gunfire popped in response. Ships whooshed and darted, silhouettes against heavy charcoal clouds. The sounds of battle hung in the air, mingling with the smoke.
Earth. She was still on Earth.
Not the Citadel.
She hadn't even made it to the Citadel.
And if she'd never made it to the Citadel then everything she'd seen: the Illusive Man's suicide, Anderson's death, the glowing, ethereal child claiming to be the Catalyst...none of it had been real.
Her mind tilted and buckled under the weight of it, her vision going black around the edges.
She clenched her jaw tight, fighting against the hum of her cybernetic implants. Fighting against the shrieks of the Reaper forces scattered around the battlefield. Willing the noise and the pain to just go away.
"We can make it stop." The whispers were endless, layered and spoken in so many different voices she wondered where they all came from. "The pain. The regret. The loss."
She opened her eye. She hadn't realized she'd squeezed it shut, trying to block out all the death piled up on the battlefield. And then she saw them. The shadows from her nightmares floated like black fog surrounding around her. They had no faces, just swirling dark mist where features should have been. But she knew with a cold certainty blossoming out from the pit of her stomach, that they were huddled around her, staring down at her with fascination. Weighing her actions and judging her thoughts.
"We can take away your nightmares. Sleep in us and find peace." Whispered promises drifted through the air, formless as the shadowy bodies.
She couldn't deny the temptation was there. How long had it been since she'd gotten a full night's sleep without having to worry about whether she'd see innocent children burning in her dream, or if it would be her own body engulfed in flames this time? Or someone she loved.
If she didn't get a chance to rest soon, she was afraid something important in her would turn to ash and crumble away.
"Shepard!"
She flinched at the harshness of the voice in contrast to the soft whispers that caressed her ears. A mechanical roar split through the other sounds of distant fighting, cutting through her like a knife, bringing with it a headache so intense it took her breath away. Half a second later, a concussion blast threw her forward to the ground. Another body hit the ground a few feet away, shrieking as it flew.
Shepard scrambled to her knees, planted one foot on the ground to stand, only to have her legs give out. She cursed as she tried to push herself up and almost fell again.
"Liara, cover me!" the same harsh voice cut through the air. Shepard looked up, but there was only the hazy form of a banshee writhing in mid-air, glowing under a biotic hold.
Hurried footsteps rang out as long, spindly legs sprinted toward her across the field of rubble. Hands with three sharp talons cut into her upper arms and the tension in her muscles eased. Garrus. With a grunt, he slung her arm over his shoulders for support, nearly lifting her off her feet when he stood, one of his arms wrapped around her waist.
Her toes trailed across the ground, sending pieces of debris skittering behind them as he hauled her past Liara and toward the skeleton of a cement building. The structure was missing a roof on its top story and seemed to be leaning slightly to the right but it was standing. It was cover. The safest place for miles, it seemed.
Liara's outstretched hands glowed blue. Dark blue-black liquid had dried at the corners of her mouth and one of her head fringes had a deep gash that ran from the middle of the fringe down the side of her face. Teeth bared in concentration, Liara held the Banshee in place with her biotics as Garrus dropped Shepard into cover behind an upturned table.
His eyes met Shepard's for a second. Worry was obvious on his face, from the way his brow plates drew together to his mandibles pressed close to the sides of his mouth.
Which meant she had to be a mess.
He reached for her face, his three long talons ghosting against the shredded, swollen skin on the right side of her face. The look of worry in his blue eyes deepened.
A hot mess then.
"Got matching scars." She coughed out a laugh and let herself fall back against the table behind her. It was good to have something to lean on.
The loud, haunting shriek of the banshee cut through the space between them. Liara yelled, "Garrus, if you aren't too preoccupied!"
A biotic field detonated nearby.
Garrus turned at once, hand slipping from Shepard's face to grab his assault rifle from the ground. He said, already hurrying toward the battle. "I'll be back. Use some medigel and keep your damned head down."
Shepard winced as another laugh ripped through her. Something wet escaped her lips. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. "Says the turian who doesn't know how to duck."
He was gone before she could finish speaking. In the silence, she glanced down to find her hand wet with red.
Shit. She panted with the effort it took to reach the medigel dispenser in her suit. She pressed the tab and the pain eased as medical gel, laced with pain killers, spread through the connection tubes in her armor, absorbed into her body through the cuts, knitting her flesh wounds.
Any serious injuries would still need a doctor's attention. She could taste blood. Probably meant internal bleeding. She'd need a doctor soon, then.
A memory of what seemed like only minutes before...the death of Anderson...she pressed her hand to her left side. It came away clean and free of blood when she distinctly remembered being wounded. Or, wait...was that Anderson that had been shot? She shook her head, pressed the ball of her hand against her forehead and focused on steadying her breathing. In. Out. She dragged air that tasted of ash and death into her body, held it for the span of a heartbeat, then exhaled.
Her breath left her lips black as the oily shadows that plagued her dreams.
She threw her hand over her mouth and jerked back in surprise, slamming the back of her head against the table behind her. Her stomach flipped up into her throat and she doubled over as pain shot through her skull like the piercing scream of the banshee Garrus and Liara were fighting just outside.
But the scream didn't sound like the banshee. In fact, she realized as her brain throbbed, it sort of sounded like...
"Shepard! Shepard, the banshee has Garrus!" Liara screamed. Shepard twisted, scanning the battlefield. The walls of the building around her had caved under whatever attack had torn off its roof, so she had a clear view of Liara as she hurled a biotic warp at the banshee.
The banshee, an asari whose form had been stretched and twisted into a monster akin to the human husks, had its long, razor claws around Garrus's arm, holding him off the ground by his arm. His rifle fell from his hand.
Shepard scoured the area around her. Rubble. Broken silverware, books that had fallen from the shelves on the walls, torn furniture. No weapons. Well, except for her body. But she was barely holding together as it was. Just the thought of executing a biotic charge right now made her want to vomit.
The banshee opened its jaws and shrieked in Garrus's face. Damn him for never carrying a pistol. And damn her for losing hers.
Shepard staggered to her feet. Her left knee, as useful as jelly, almost gave way beneath her. The hum of her L5 implants filled her ears as she took a deep breath and willed her biotic field around her body like armor. The banshee drew its free claw back to strike.
Shepard's pulse slowed. All movement lagged. The scenery, ruined buildings and debris and corpses of humans and reapers, jumped back from her as her biotic implants kicked in, launching her body across the battlefield and into the banshee.
The banshee staggered back, dropping Garrus, who scooped up his rifle.
Shepard slammed what was left of her biotic shield directly into the banshee's body. It shrieked as it died, curled up on the ground.
The world around her tilted as her legs gave way beneath her. She dropped onto her hands and knees. Her stomach lurched and she spat bile onto the ground from an empty stomach. Blood trickled from her nostrils but when she tried to wipe it, she almost lost her balance and face planted into the cement.
Instead, she rested her forehead on the ground and squeezed her eyes shut, begging the world to just stop spinning.
Two pairs of hands slipped under her arms and her waist, lifting her until she was standing again.
Liara and Garrus both supported one of her arms over their shoulders, dragging her broken body back to their cover. She meant to tell them how embarrassing it was for her to get a nosebleed over a simple biotic attack she'd performed countless times. It was a green move, only unseasoned Vanguards used too much force when their bodies couldn't handle it. It strained the implants. She'd have a hell of a migraine later.
She meant to say that.
"I'm sorry." Her voice was a ragged breath, barely audible over the distant gunfire and dying cries of reapers and men. "I'm sorry. I thought it was over. I thought we'd won."
Her head flopped against her chest as they hurried toward the steel and cement skeleton of the building. Garrus and Liara exchanged a quick look over her head, but kept moving.
"Let's get up to the second floor. We're too easy to spot on ground level," Garrus said, jerking his chin toward the stairwell.
Liara hesitated, shaking her head. "The building isn't safe. It could come down at any minute."
Garrus didn't wait for a compromise. Without missing a step, he hefted Shepard's weight off Liara's shoulders and continued toward the stairs. "Work with me, Commander. You aren't exactly a dainty little quarian with hollow bones. You're going to have to help a guy out here."
Shepard seemed to respond to his chiding and tried to brace herself on whichever leg had the least amount of muscle damage. Liara made a frustrated sound. "This is insane. One Reaper blast and this whole place falls on top of us."
"You want to take on another banshee single-handed, knock yourself out." Garrus said as he carefully started up the stairs. They looked like they would cave underfoot. "But Shepard needs medical attention and since you're the only one here with a doctorate..."
Liara huffed, pressing her fingers to her temple. "I'm not that kind of doctor—"
Garrus paused two steps up and murmured something that only Shepard could hear. She reached up and took hold of the collar of his armor and focused on putting more weight on her good leg. He then turned his attention to Liara over his shoulder. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I'll just slap some medigel on anything red and she'll be better in no time. Human blood is red, isn't it?"
Even if she knew he was joking, Liara had had enough. She stomped toward the stairs, hands in fists at her sides. "You radio Joker. See if we can get an evac. I'll tend to her wounds."
"No." Shepard struggled in Garrus's arms. He nearly dropped her, but managed to keep her from tumbling back down the stairs. "Just get me to the beam. I have to. I have to get to the beam and finish this."
Liara's eyes softened as she met Shepard's gaze. She plucked the sweat and blood damp bangs from Shepard's forehead and said, "It's no use. The Reapers have the beam surrounded now. We have to regroup and formulate a new plan of attack."
Shepard gripped Garrus's armor as if it were the only anchor keeping her from flying off the face of the world. Despair spread poison in her veins, making it hard to breathe. It wasn't over. It had never been over.
And a small voice at the back of her mind whispered that everything would have been so much easier if she'd never woken up at all.
Garrus's hand crept to the small of her back, steadying her as they continued up the stairs, one slow step at a time.